


It's fine, even if it's not okay

by sunshineandeyebrows



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Occasional swearing, Original Character Death(s), a bit of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 14:28:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7980019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineandeyebrows/pseuds/sunshineandeyebrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been too long. Stiles was never his, just like he wasn't anyone else's, but when he disappeared after the sheriff's death, Derek understood Stiles had become something so constant in his life, he could no longer live without him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's fine, even if it's not okay

Derek stopped in front of a small house on one of the quieter, beautiful in their isolation beaches of California. The jeep stood about fifty feet up the coast, hidden in the shadow casted by stunted trees. The sun was scorching, waves hitting the sand with a soothing murmur.

Derek raised his hand to knock, but changed his mind, opening the door without any preamble. There was no mountain ash.

"Leave," he heard as soon as he took a step inside.

Stiles was sitting on the windowsill, long legs stretched in front of him, covered only by short shorts. He didn't turn around. His skin was darker than the pale shade Derek remembered so well. That was the only thing that revealed how much time had passed since the tragic night. The few times they had gone to the beach before, Stiles had to put on unbelievable amounts of sunscreen and stay in shade the whole time, or he would be dying from burnt skin for the next two days.

"No," Derek said.

"Go," Stiles repeated, his voice getting louder, sharper. "Just get out!"

"No," Derek grunted stubbornly.

It had been too long. Stiles was never his, just like he wasn't anyone else's, but when he disappeared after the sheriff's death, Derek understood Stiles had become something so constant in his life, he could no longer live without him.

"Fine," Stiles stood up. He still avoided Derek's gaze, but all the suddenly visible skin brightened by the sun was enough to make Derek ache. "I'll go then," Stiles added, suddenly right next to him.

He managed to pass Derek and almost reach the door before the man could react.

"Wait!" he grabbed Stiles' wrist and twisted them, so that he could get a better hold.

Stiles tried to get away, thrashing about and yelling swears and demands, but even if he could mask his tracks so well now, he had been here for a month already, even if he had a spark that let him do incredible, even magical things, he still wasn't stronger than a werewolf.

He calmed down after a long while, breathing ragged, and thumped his head against Derek's chest.

"I won't go back," he said, voice breaking.

Derek let go of his hands and cupped his face instead, raising it forcibly to make him meet his gaze.

Stiles' eyes were empty. There wasn't anything in them, as if they weren't looking out at the world, but to the inside, at nothingness. The emptiness was now covered by anger, but Derek could see it clearly. He pulled Stiles against his chest for the lack of a better thing to do and embraced him tightly.

"Just go," Stiles whispered, barely audible, hanging in his arms, as if he didn't have any strength left to even raise his hands or support himself.

Derek hurt when he looked at him like this, devastated, broken, a shadow of himself.

"You've lost weight," he said.

Stiles snorted a bitter laugh and freed himself out of Derek's arms, throwing himself onto the old, falling apart couch.

"Why are you here, Derek?"

Derek stared at him for a moment, wondering if he would kill himself, had he been weaker. Stiles was too strong for the nogitsune, something like death wasn't even worth mentioning.

"I want to show you something. I think it'll help."

Stiles sent him a mocking glance. He probably wasn't even in a place where he wanted help right now.

"Come on," Derek said, pulling his arm to make him stand up. "Just get your stuff and go with me. What do you have to lose?" the moment it got out of his mouth, he knew it was the worst possible thing to say.

Stiles' smile was ugly and sad as he moved.

"Nothing. Not anymore."

Derek didn't answer, clenching his jaw until it hurt.

After sitting in the hospital for fourteen hours straight and praying for the sheriff to be out of surgery alive, Stiles had gone blank as soon as he heard the news. He had taken care of every formalities with almost robotic precision and after the funeral, he disappeared. Derek had wanted to chase him and bring him back the same night. Scott had said no. Derek had been angry, Isaac refused to talk with their alpha until he decided to find Stiles. Two weeks had passed and Scott still refused to search for his best friend. Lydia had been too quiet after Scott had yelled at her for even thinking about Stiles. Allison had seemed to know some secret no one else did, but getting anything out of her was impossible. Derek had been angry and helpless, but glad at least Kira didn't have to live through it because she had left the country.

And then, on about seventeenth day of sole frustration and powerlessness, Scott had showed up on Derek's doorstep with blood drying on his clothes just to say, "Now we look," with a relieved smile. Derek hadn't asked and eventually Scott had told him why. It had taken over a week to track Stiles. But finally, he was right there, sitting next to Derek in the Camaro, with thinner body, unfamiliar skin and dark circles under unseeing eyes, but he was there nonetheless.

"Stiles," he flinched, but Derek continued quietly, calmly. Stiles seemed now no better than a wild animal that needed to be tamed again after running away. "If I tell you something, will you believe it?"

Stiles smirked. It was cold and resigned.

"Depends on what it is," his voice was now a bit stronger, but sounded scratchy, as if it had been unused for that entire month.

"If I could, I would have taken his place."

Stiles' heart stuttered as his eyes became wide. Derek noticed that his hands, lying until now on his legs, started shaking and he clenched them to the point his knuckles got white. His breathing was too even to be natural. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Pull over," he said weakly.

Derek did so without questions, suddenly feeling guilty for bringing it up. Stiles threw the door open and sank to the ground. Derek heard the sounds of vomiting. He went back to that night and remembered how sheriff had looked with his body almost shredded to pieces. He felt a bit sick too.

When Stiles came back, he wordlessly passed him a bottle of water. They drove in silence for a few miles.

"Does this happen often?" Derek asked finally.

Stiles didn't look at him, just like for the entirety of their encounter apart from that one time forced by Derek. He didn't say anything either.

"Stiles."

"Practically every time I eat," he muttered finally.

"But that's not all," Derek pointed out.

"No," Stiles finally turned to him and his gaze became alive for just a moment, lit by anger that was masking his despair. "That's not all. It happens at night too, in turns with panic attacks. I feel like there is a hole in my chest, but everything is so dry and empty, I can't even cry. I haven't cried once this whole month and it's terrifying I can't even offer him a few tears, because my psyche can't take it. So yeah, the idea that you have anything that could help is pretty fucking impossible."

Derek was quiet for a long moment.

"Do you trust me?" he asked finally.

Stiles snorted, turning to the view behind the window again. His hands were still shaking as he pressed one of them to his face and the other to his thigh.

"I thought I get you, but I really don't," he said.

"Answer the question, Stiles."

Stiles muttered, "Shit," under his breath. His leg started jittering.

"Yes, I fucking trust you, although right now I also hate you."

Derek felt a painful pang in his chest when he didn't hear a lie in Stiles' heartbeat, but he knew he used to be the same after his family's death, when he had been in so much pain, he hadn't realised then that he'd been hurting Laura too. He remembered he had just wanted to be left alone, but he also knew it hadn't been the right way to grief.

"Then trust me when I say it will help," he said calmly.

For the first time since they met, Stiles' scent changed. It was so full of despair until now, Derek had to cut himself off of it, because Stiles was pack and he was hurting so much, Derek would have surely fallen into depression, if he let it get to him. Now Stiles was bitter to the point Derek could feel it on his tongue. The bitterness was laced with fear.

"Stop," he said suddenly, breathlessly. "We're going back to Beacon Hills, I can't go back, I told you I won't!"

"I didn't have a choice," Derek said. "The thing I want to show you is there. After that, you can go back or do whatever you want."

Stiles glanced at him suddenly, completely terrified.

"You're lying," he said.

Derek reciprocated the look, nodded, heart loud in his throat.

He wasn't really expecting it to work, he had never before lied to Stiles.

"That's true. But I really want to help."

Stiles looked at that second raw and betrayed, like a child that'd been left by its parents after realising there is no promise and they won't come back.

Derek turned away. He couldn't take it.

"I'm sorry, I want you to go back," he admitted quietly, voice unstable. "But I won't stop you, if you decide to leave again."

Stiles nodded, suddenly too still and cold.

"I don't think I trust you anymore," he said blankly and it hurt, but it was also fine.

Stiles was able to magically stop the car, knock Derek out using two fingers and leave him on the side of the road, if he only wanted. He didn't do that, which meant he isn't dead set on never coming back and might be fighting his fear, leaving everything to Derek for now. Derek could live with that, if it meant he'll be able to help.

They didn't talk after that and the road passed in silence. Derek didn't like not-talking Stiles as much as he had thought he would. He would give anything to see him smile or even look at Derek with the same mischief and light that he got so used to.

But Stiles was now no more than an animal in pain, chased into a corner and if he couldn't defend himself, the only way to get out of it was to attack. Derek understood that, he was partly a beast himself, after all.

They got out near the Hale house and walked through the woods wordlessly, until they reached the cellar that Kate Argent had used as her private torture paradise. Stiles frowned with surprise, but didn't question anything, as they stepped on the stairs down. When they reached the chamber, Derek turned on the lights. He heard a quiet, but sharp intake of breath when Stiles saw what was inside.

"Are they-"

A shrill shout cut him off and Derek grimaced.

"Yeah. Those are the harpies," he said, although right now they looked like normal women.

That had just woken up. Derek remembered their wings, bleak and wide, as they covered the sheriff before he could get there.

"Look," the first of them rasped. "It seems we have guests."

The other one raised her head with visible difficulty.

"Yeah. I remember that one. He was the one who killed Tess."

Stiles clenched his hands into fists, his body trembling. Derek couldn't decipher his scent now at all.

"And the werewolf that almost killed us," the first one nodded with a hideous smirk.

Derek ignored them.

"Scott forbade us from looking for you until he caught them. He wanted to make sure they're dealt with by the time you come back. I stopped him from killing them."

Stiles whipped his head around to glance at him with too many emotions on his face. At least it wasn't empty anymore.

"Scott wouldn't-"

"Kill? His policy didn't seem to matter this time. If it was you that died, he wouldn't even hesitate."

Stiles turned back to look at the harpies. They were chained by iron, otherwise Stiles and Derek would have been in shreds by now. As it was, they couldn't shift into their more terrifying form.

"I told him it might be a good idea to leave them to you."

Stiles stilled, staring ahead at the women.

"I-"

"No one will judge you for anything," Derek added. "You're free to do whatever you want with them."

Stiles didn't answer, his heart pounding like crazy. Derek left him there, going back up. He searched for some shadow and waited. It was hot.

***

Stiles slowly emerged from the darkness of the cellar to squint in blazing sun. He felt unnaturally still, cold.

Derek got up from his place under a tree and stood there wordlessly, staring at him. Stiles was irritated by his unwavering calm.

"Let's go," he said, passing Derek to get away from his gaze.

"Where to?"

"Back," Stiles said. "I left my jeep there, you have to drive me."

"Then stay here."

Stiles turned around rapidly, feeling fury spread quickly in his stomach.

"You told me I could do whatever I wanted, I wanna go back!"

Derek cocked his head to the side.

"Did it help?"

Stiles didn't know how to react to the sudden changes of topic anymore. He turned away from Derek and started walking.

It was stupid to trust Derek's words and follow him back to Beacon Hills. What was he even thinking will happen? It was dangerous to leave him such choices, after the nogitsune he couldn't control himself as well, his morality was under a question mark. It was a miracle he hadn't killed anyone over that past month just out of spite and pain.

But Derek could somehow guess what he was feeling and the choice that he had put in front of Stiles was just a cunning attempt at manipulation. And it worked.

Derek appeared suddenly on his way.

"Why do you think going back there will help you, if it hadn't done that for a month?" he asked with a frown.

He had been frowning since he barged into Stiles' shelter.

"It's none of your fucking business," Stiles hissed, trying to evade him.

Derek made a small, pained noise then that Stiles knew was unintentional. It held him in place nonetheless. He hated hurting his pack the most and knew how much it meant for Derek to be included, but right now he couldn't think about anything apart from his dad's death.

"Fine," Derek said and Stiles could have very well imagined what got out of his throat just a second ago. "You leave me no choice then. Scott."

Stiles froze, glancing up at Derek with disbelief. Derek had a face that expressed guilt. Stiles didn't remember the last time he had felt so betrayed.

"Stiles," Scott said from behind him.

His voice was shaking.  
Stiles didn't want to turn around and see him. He felt exhausted all of a sudden and couldn't think of anything that would help. Like there wasn't anything ahead of him anymore.

"Stiles, please," Scott whispered.

And that was the moment everything broke. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut for just a second, turning around. When he opened them, he was already in Scott's arms. He was surprised he still couldn't cry.

"Thank God you're okay," Scott said weakly.

Stiles hugged him back, accepting Scott's strength with all his being. It made him feel alive again.

When he raised his head, Derek was gone.

They stood there for a long time, but time didn't matter anymore. Finally, when the sun was almost setting, Scott said, "They want to see you."

And Stiles said okay.

"Really?" Scott looked at him with tears in his eyes as his lips stretched in a blinding smile.

"Yeah," Stiles shrugged, pretty much resigned.

Scott looked suddenly guilty.

"I'm sorry about all of this," he said quietly. "We just wanted you back."

"It's fine already, Scott."

It wasn't, not entirely. But Stiles knew Scott won't hear a lie in his voice, because he had the word fine under perfect control. Scott frowned, as if he guessed anyway and maybe it wasn't because of his supernatural ears, but the fact he just knew Stiles too well.

"What did you do to them?" he asked cautiously.

Stiles snorted.

"Not enough probably."

Scott didn't expand on the topic. He just threw an arm over Stiles' shoulder and pulled him along until they reached his car.

Lydia's face was stunned as two single tears rolled down her cheeks when she saw him. Stiles didn't manage to say anything, he received a slap to the face that echoed through Scott's whole house and then Lydia threw herself on his neck. Stiles stood there frozen shocked for a moment and then hugged her back, feeling warm for the first time in a month.

Then Allison kissed his cheek, crushing him in a hug, as Lydia disappeared in the bathroom to fix her make-up. Danny dimpled at him and embraced him strongly, clapping his back with a bit too much force. Isaac stood there a little awkwardly and they were staring at each other for a moment, until Stiles sighed and opened his arms widely.

"Come on, I know you want to."

Isaac hugged him with a grin then, scenting him all over.

Stiles felt a smile on his face and it was strange, because he hadn't smiled in a month and his muscles were rusted.

When Stiles was ruffling Isaac's hair, Melissa came in. The groceries she had been holding fell to the floor when she practically ran to Stiles to hug the shit out of him. And suddenly, it was okay. Not completely, something was still missing, but Melissa's embrace was too motherly not to help, even if just a little. She let him go after a moment, cupping his face with a soft gaze.

"Let me look at you," she said gently. She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "You're even thinner than before. At least you've tanned a little. I'll make dinner right away, you have to eat everything I give you."

Stiles opened his mouth to protest.

"E v e r y t h i n g. Allison, honey, could you help me a bit?"

"Of course," Allison stood up, patting Stiles' chest as she passed him.

"I'll go too," Danny said, smiling blindingly to Melissa.

Stiles looked at Scott. Scott shrugged and set up Mario Kart.

The dinner was loud and lively. Scott had a hand on Stiles' back practically the entire time. Allison linked her fingers with his, preventing him from using one of his hands, but they both managed. Isaac was playing footsy with him underneath the table. Melissa was trying to sneak food onto his plate and didn't want to listen to any protests. Danny was throwing peas at him secretly so that Melissa wouldn't see. Lydia sat at the top of the table proudly and they all knew her aura meant the little incident from before should never get out of this circle. Stiles was kind of hoping to use it as blackmail, but Lydia sent him a dark look that caused shivers of dread traveling down his spine and he gave up the idea.

"You know, I've never actually seen you cry," Scott said, as per usual absolutely oblivious.

Lydia turned to glare daggers at him instead. Scott kind of shrunk in on himself.

"Scott, you don't point out such things to a lady," Melissa reprimanded.

Stiles was secretly glad Derek dragged his ass back.

***

Derek heard a familiar heartbeat when Stiles was still on the second floor. He slowly got up to head to the kitchen for a glass of water and then supported himself on the wall near the entrance, waiting. The way his pulse was pounding kind of irritated him.

Stiles stopped just before he reached the door and a minute passed. Derek didn't move. Stiles wasn't a guy you opened the door for, he was the guy that let himself in without invitation and somehow no one was ever mad about that.

Finally, he moved, getting inside in one swift motion. The loft was dark, the only thing that somehow helped to brighten it were the lights of town pouring in dimmly through giant windows. Even so, Stiles looked directly at Derek the moment he stepped in. This time it was him who waited, but only for a second.

"Thank you," he said quietly, maybe more whispered.

Derek wouldn't have heard it, if he wasn't a werewolf. He slowly approached Stiles, careful not to startle him, but it seemed he didn't have to be cautious anymore. Stiles smelled a lot better than before and looked more sure, more grounded. He didn't even flinch when Derek caressed gently his cheek. And he was looking now right into his eyes.

"Sorry I said I didn't trust you," he added.

Derek snorted with amusement.

"No you're not. I lied to you and you were telling the truth. You're sorry because I reacted like I did, because you don't like to hurt people."

Stiles squinted.

"That's… awfully specific," he said. "Why do you know me so well?"

Derek shrugged.

"Don't know. I just do."

"Oh yeah? Then what else can you tell me?"

"You're not okay right now," Derek said softly. "You're exhausted and it hurts."

Stiles snorted.

"Yeah, right, like that would-" he stopped, startled, as tears flowed slowly down his cheeks. A stunned few second passed. "Huh? Why am I- shit, so embarrassing," he said angrily, rubbing his face, although new tears were continuously replacing the old ones.

Derek grabbed his wrists.

"It's fine, Stiles," he said, bending to kiss one of the moist cheeks gently. "Let it out. All of it."  
Stiles looked at him for half a second and then smashed his face against Derek's chest, whole body spazming with the force of first muffled sobs that quickly changed into loud, heart-tearing whaling.

Derek didn't know how long they stood there, one of his hands firm on Stiles' back, the other delicate on his head. Eventually, he maneuvered them cautiously to the couch, cradling Stiles in his arms like a child. Finally, Stiles calmed down with only a nervous hiccup remaining. He moved slightly away, glancing up.

"Shit, sorry, I covered your shirt in snot," he mumbled, wiping his face with the edge of his own clothes.

Derek had never thought of Stiles as cute before, but right now, with watery eyes, sniffling and trying very hard to get rid of every evidence of his weakness, bashful because of Derek's ruined shirt, he was adorable.

"It's fine, I have other clothes and a washing machine, you know," Derek drawled.

Stiles socked him in the arm with a lopsided grin.

"What did you do to them?" Derek asked.

He couldn't help being curious. Stiles sniffled a bit more and looked at him weirdly.

"I wanted to kill them at first. But I haven't used magic for a month and I didn't want the first thing I do to be murder," he said blankly, snorting a bit at his own words. "That was the only reason, probably. I don't think I have anything against killing anymore."

Derek grabbed his hands and squeezed.

"I don't believe that," he said chokingly. It was painful.

Stiles glanced at him for just one second like he wanted to believe him, but then he turned away.

"I took their magic. I'm not sure, maybe it's- it might be worse than killing. I know how you were when you thought you've lost your powers."

Derek just looked at him for a while.

"Why weren't you using it for that month?" he asked, even though he could more or less guess the reason.

Stiles grimaced.

"I couldn't I guess. At least at the beginning. It made me sick to think about using it with the moment I killed one of those harpies still in front of my eyes. And then, when I tried, it didn't work. I thought I had lost it, for a while. It only worked today."

Derek nodded, unsure how to respond. He moved finally, pulling Stiles up with him.

"You know where the bathroom is, I'm gonna go change, you wash your face and we're going to sleep," he instructed.

Stiles didn't answer and it was one of the things that showed how much had changed. A month ago, Stiles would have made some nerd innuendo and wiggled his eyebrows. Now, he just nodded, hand never stopping the nervous rubbing on his face, and walked into the bathroom.

Derek changed into a new shirt and sweats, leaving Stiles a pair too.

Stiles was quiet, calm, as he dressed and slowly clambered on the bed. They stared at each other for a moment.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea," Stiles whispered finally.

Derek sighed contentedly.

"If you throw up, do it into the bowl," he said, waving a hand in the direction where the bowl stood next to the bed.

"Wow, you thought things through," Stiles muttered. "And if I-"

"We'll deal with it then."

Stiles was silent for a moment.

"Fine."

Derek closed his eyes.

"Hey, Derek?"

"What?"

"You kissed me before."

"Yeah."

"Can you… do it again?"

Stiles' tone was casual, but his heart was pounding. Derek smirked, only now opening his eyes to see Stiles blushing in the darkness. Werewolf sight was the best.

"Moron," he said, pulling Stiles by the collar to kiss him on the mouth this time.

Stiles practically melted, instantly getting on board with the proceedings, somehow climbing on top of Derek.

Derek gently pulled him away.

"Wait."

Something flickered in Stiles' eyes, but it disappeared before Derek could interpret it. Stiles moved away completely, avoiding his gaze.

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't think, I get it."

Derek sighed, suddenly understanding.

"You don't get it, Stiles," he said irritably. "Look at me."

"No," Stiles pouted.

Derek fought off his amusement and growled, grabbing Stiles' face to make him look up. His cheeks were puffed out childishly and he was gazing at Derek begrudgingly.

"It's not over yet. Your grief. I'll wait for you, I wanna do it right."

Stiles stopped with the pouting and his eyebrows raised on his forehead instead.

"I don't know what to say," he mumbled finally, stunned.

"That's probably a first for you, huh," Derek drawled.

Stiles punched him on the arm weakly. He was smiling and Derek felt momentarily better seeing it.

"Come on, turn around."

Stiles slowly did as he was told. Derek embraced him from behind, snuggling. Stiles' scent was really good now, even if there was a bit of embarrassment in it. His skin was warm. Derek smashed his face against Stiles' nape. Stiles squirmed.

"If you kick me, you won't get breakfast," Derek warned. It was obvious Stiles began to overthink things and Derek didn't want to let him, because that wasn't the point. "Just sleep."

Stiles relaxed a little.

"You really know me pretty well," he said softly.

"Yeah, what can I say, you're pretty interesting."

Stiles snorted a laugh.

"Gee, thanks."

"Shut up," Derek huffed into his skin.

Stiles shivered violently.

"Are you crazy? Don't do that!"

Derek kissed his nape instead. Stiles sighed deeply.

"Don't think anymore. It's fine if you're not okay."

"That's pretty deep, man. So deep I almost can't see you anymore," Stiles muttered.

Derek practically heard the smirk.

"I'm not gonna comment that. Sleep, idiot."

Stiles was quiet for a while.

"It's not gonna get easier, is it," he whispered.

"No," Derek agreed. "You'll just get a little used to the pain. But you know that already."

"Yeah," Stiles breathed, and then, even more quiet, "It's somehow worse this time."

"That's normal, right? He was the last of your family," Derek muttered gently. "Just don't start thinking you're alone now. You're not, okay?"

"Yeah," Stiles mumbled drowsily. "Okay."

Derek smiled, hearing his breathing slow down and hugging his pliant, relaxed body.

***

"… So I thought we were done for this time, because a dragon and all, but Derek sailed in like my knight in a shining armor and now we have actual treasure like, Smaug's kind of treasure and we'll rebuild the Hale house, because Derek is a closet romantic and wants to build me a house! Isn't it great for your only son to have such a good provider?"

Stiles caressed the tombstone gently and stood up. Derek waited for him, surrounded by colorful trees, dressed in a black coat, looking at the sky that threatened with soon to come rain.

"Damn, boo, you shouldn't even want to get out of the house with me by your side. You look too good," Stiles said smugly, because he tapped that regularly.

Derek glared at him.

"You were the one who wanted me to have this coat, you have to go everywhere with me now."

"That's because it's like it's been made for you! I like people to know all of that is mine!" Stiles explained, although it was pretty obvious.

Derek didn't think so apparently.

"I don't like when people stare at me," he growled.

"Yeah, right. Like you hadn't been totally swaggering around with your leather jacket and your Camaro back in the day," Stiles drawled.

Derek threw dead leaves at him. Stiles squawked, quickly answering with his own attack. Soon, they were both laughing until Derek tackled him to the ground to peck his lips happily. Stiles stared at him for a moment.Derek stared back. He slowly slid his fingers along Stiles' cheek.

"It's gotten paler," he said, looking Stiles in the eye. "Your skin."

Stiles smiled softly.

"I wish dad could see you like this."

Derek snorted.

"He would have shot me with wolfsbane."

"Maybe. But I would have protected you, babe!"

"Stop using those weird words to call me!" Derek said angrily, although his ears were completely pink.

Stiles grinned.

"Don't lie, big guy, you love it."

"Shut up, I don't!"

Stiles kissed his hand as he pulled them both up to head toward Lydia's place for lunch.

"What was it? It's fine even if it's not okay?"

"Why do I even deal with you," Derek muttered, resigned.

He entwined their fingers as they walked.

"That's because you need me, boo," Stiles teased. "You couldn't live without me."

Derek looked at him with surprise, as if he was shocked that Stiles knew him so well too. Stiles thought, "Duh," because Derek was an idiot and Stiles was interested in him long before it worked the other way.

"You're cute."

Derek flushed spontaneously, taken offguard.

"Shut up, Stiles," he mumbled, furiously stalking forward with their hands still joined, which spoilt the effect completely.

Stiles smiled, feeling light and good. He really wished his dad could see him right now.

Derek pushed him into bushes, but after a bit of hesitation, followed suit. They ended up late for lunch, but Stiles thought even Lydia's murderous gaze was worth it.


End file.
